


Angel Face

by foxjar



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cousin Incest, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22084003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Kanae leaves Shuu a present before leaving on a trip to Germany.
Relationships: Karren von Rosewald/Tsukiyama Shuu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Angel Face

"I have a gift for you," Kanae says once Shuu has finished eating breakfast. "Before I leave on my trip."

He dabs a speck of blood from his lips with his napkin as he looks at his cousin, now clearing the table. Kanae is in his usual attire — long-sleeved shirt with his button-down vest — but something about him still strikes Shuu with awe.

 _There's something about the way he carries himself,_ Shuu thinks. _A swell of pride._

It's almost been a decade since Kanae came to live at the Tsukiyama family home. He still remembers the little boy who graced their doorstep all those years ago: hungry, alone, and scared. If Shuu had to watch his entire family massacred, he doesn't think he would have had the strength to carry on, not as Kanae did. And he was so young, unable to fight; before he came to Japan, he probably never had to hunt for his own food.

Never had to kill.

Kanae's gifts are always thoughtful. He's able to work miracles with needle and thread, mending even the most doomed of shirts. Despite living a life of privilege, Shuu has always appreciated the kindness behind the gestures as well as the intimacy of Kanae knowing just which pieces from his wardrobe he adores the most.

Excitement bubbles up in his throat as Kanae leads him outside into the cool evening air. He shows him a new plant, green and lush, growing in a large black container.

"What are these little darlings?" Shuu murmurs, kneeling on the patio to inspect the new foliage.

"Rosa 'Angel Face.'" Kanae leans over his shoulder, breath warm on his neck as he points out the tiniest of buds, threatening to bloom. "I hear they're quite fragrant."

"From the Sterling Silver. Amazing."

"I wish I could see them," Kanae admits, his voice sad. "Just once."

Shuu turns his head, lips nearly colliding with his cousin's cheek before Kanae jumps back in surprise. He's cradling his cheek as if the mere possibility of Shuu touching him burns, eyes staring at the slumbering roses.

"What do you mean? Surely you'll be back by the time they bloom."

Kanae's trip entails a two-week visit to Germany. Although Shuu pressed him to take some of the other servants along with him — for both comfort and safety — he refused. It took hours of arguing for Shuu to relent, not wanting to put someone so important to him in such a clear shot of danger in such a faraway country. If things take a turn for the worse, not even the fastest pilot employed by the Tsukiyama family could ferry him there in time to be of much use.

But still, he accepted Kanae's plea to return to his home country, even if it's just this one last time. Shuu couldn't imagine what it'd be like to be driven from Japan, never to return, so he allows this small kindness after everything Kanae has done for him.

"If the roses need more space," Kanae says, responding to Shuu's question with his own, "could you put them in a bigger pot?"

Shuu shakes his head. "Nonsense. I'll plant them in the garden alongside my most cherished flowers."

"They'd like that, I think." Kanae wipes at his eyes, wet with unshed tears. "Very much so."

 _Happy tears,_ Shuu hopes. _But at least he does not cry alone._

In typical fashion, Kanae asks for the pleasure of playing the violin for him, as if his music is anything but a gift to Shuu's ears. Again, he acquiesces to such a simple request but with a caveat this time: they will play together on this most relaxing of nights.

Shuu's fingers dance upon the keys of his piano as Kanae skillfully plucks at the violin with his bow. He can't remember the last time he felt this relaxed, and time winds so quickly that, before long, the dawn has come and Kanae is gone. He promised to make contact the moment he arrived in Germany, so Shuu isn't too worried yet.

Days pass without word from his cousin. He starts to fret, pacing his room and tossing books to and fro as they fail to distract him

 _Non._ He shakes his head. _Something is wrong. Terribly wrong._

His father commiserates with him, worrying about Kanae's welfare, but he urges patience. They have a whole network of ghouls for helping people in and out of various countries, after all, and no one has reported any issues.

As the days pass, Shuu spends more time with the flowers Kanae left him.

_He was right. These will need to be transplanted before the buds overwhelm each other._

The flowers are creeping open, their ruffled petals a soft lavender. The more they open, the more potent their scent becomes — the tangy sweetness of citrus.

Shuu has never eaten fruit before. Growing up, he didn't understand why they had to eat people to survive. His father explained to him at a young age that, because of their family history, Shuu's body could be sensitive. Finicky, even. He stressed the importance of never eating human food, lest he becomes very ill.

He's familiar with the scent of fruit, at least. His favorite bath set — soap, shampoo, conditioner — has a strong undertone of citrus. If he hadn't been kept from eating human food as a child, he wouldn't be able to enjoy the smell now. Instead, he would be gagging at the smallest whiff as his tongue remembered the foul taste plaguing his mouth.

 _Is this why you chose this flower? You see more than you let on,_ he thinks.

_Kanae._

As he's clearing the last bits of dirt from the large container, gloved hands squishing the damp soil, he notices a raised surface along the side. It's so small he almost doesn't see it at first, as it's near the top of the container and almost indiscernible from the rest of the dark plastic.

When he brushes the dirt away, he sees his name on it, the characters carefully etched into the plastic. His heart jolts at such a carefully placed surprise, wondering just what his cousin could have left him.

He wonders what could be so important for Kanae to have sought out — or made himself — a custom container for these flowers. Shuu's hand slips down, down into the small pocket, once hidden by roots and dirt, before pulling out a small bag. It's ziplocked, and when he opens it, finds another bag inside.

Shuu smiles, thinking about the care Kanae put into protecting his gift. Whatever it is, it must be important. Kanae was crafty to remind him to move the flowers or else he might have never discovered this secret.

He wonders, though: _Why hide it here?_

After he has set his gloves aside, he opens each of the bags, one after another. Each is smaller than the last, and his thirst for answers grows greater with each one.

In the end, there is an envelope, nondescript other than his name written on the front in Kanae's careful, elegant hand. All of the trouble he went to secure the letter seems to have worked, as it is free of any water damage.

The sun is warm on his face as he reclines back on the patio, anticipating a quick note from his cousin.

Like so many times in Shuu's life up to this point, he doesn't put the pieces together until it's too late.

The letter begins:

> My dearest Shuu. Please forgive me for the atrocities I am about to confess: for lying to you, for betraying you in my heart, and for being too weak.

When Shuu stands up, his knees are wobbly. Something in him is numb — so numb, he's not sure it'll ever heal.

In the quiet of the garden, he screams. Because he isn't sure what else to do, and because he finds it comforting.

He hasn't screamed like this since he was a child.

He runs.

> I have loved you always. From the moment we met — Mein Gott, how I have loved you.

His father meets him in the front room, having heard his wail. Mirumo is asking him what's wrong, but the words stick in his throat. Servants are gathering in the room, keeping their distance but still keen on helping.

 _No one can help,_ Shuu thinks. _Not anymore._

When his father reaches for the letter still in his hands, he jumps back, protective of the words before he realizes that he needs help. He doesn't think he can shoulder this alone.

"It's Kanae," Shuu says, voice solemn as he hands Mirumo the paper.

> I was born in Germany, but it is no longer my home. If I could have, I would have died by your side. You make me want to live on — to keep my family alive. This is why I left. You make me fall in love with life a little too much, I think.

The letter explains Kanae's — Karren's — circumstances: how she chose to live as a man for her family, her true name, and how she loved him.

"We have to find her. We never heard from anyone about her entering Germany, so it must mean she never left —"

"Shuu. She's gone."

Mirumo squeezes his shoulder, and he falls into his father's arms. He feels so small and powerless; his body is heavy as arms wrap around him, holding him up.

"Please, Papa. We have to try."

"Of course, Shuu. Of course."

The last of the letter reads:

> Forgive me for having fallen in love with you. Forgive me for leaving you.

Despite every ounce of money and influence at the Tsukiyama family's disposal, they never find any trace of Karren. Whether she's alive or dead is anyone's guess, and Shuu never asks what people think. He doesn't want to know.

At his behest, Karren's room is kept just the way she left it: the mosquito net hung over her bed to keep the bugs out, her clothes in the closet, the violin Shuu gave her sitting in the corner of the room. He often thinks about how he'll never hear her play it again, and he wishes he would have thought to record her somehow: her music, her voice, her laugh.

There's a lot he would give up to see her again. But, unluckily for him, he has nothing to tempt her back with and no way of making contact with her.

It doesn't seem like she took much of anything with her, and this gnaws at Shuu — the possibility that she might be somewhere he can't reach.

There are clothes he never saw her wear in the closet, buried so deep she probably never thought he would see. Dresses, skirts, undergarments. They smell like her, of roses and just a hint of citrus.

He sleeps in her bed more often than his own now. When he's able to fall asleep, he dreams of her: her face when he would cup her cheek, and how sad she always looked. He was always so selfish, never realizing what he had right in front of him while he was gorging himself as the Gourmet.

Some things are much more precious than food, he's realized. Far too late.

There's no way of knowing how he would have responded to her feelings now, but he likes to think of kissing her. He lies in her bed, drinking in her scent, and he imagines how her lips would feel against his, how her eyes would light up as he held her close.

_Why couldn't you have given me a chance, Karren?_

He tries to keep her memory alive in his head, but the only place it truly flourishes is in his dreams. When he sleeps, sometimes they'll dance together, his hand on the curve of her waist as they twirl. He tries to imagine her in the dresses from her closet as well as the most sprawling of ball gowns, decadent and made from the softest fabric.

The only times Shuu feels alive anymore are when he dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> This story references the same flowers as Blumenjungfrau: [Sterling Silver](https://www.helpmefind.com/rose/l.php?l=2.5970&tab=36), [Angel Face](https://www.helpmefind.com/rose/l.php?l=2.44117&tab=36).
> 
> I was really inspired by the lyrics to [this cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XjZRXIgBb8) of "季節は次々死んでいく," particularly the lines about a dark truth being revealed after flowers bloom.


End file.
